


Metal Hands and Clockwork Hearts

by spitecentral



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst, Autistic Edward Elric, Ed and Winry and Al Role Reversal, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Timeline What Timeline, Trans Girl Winry Rockbell, Trisha and Hohenheim Role Reversal, Written by an Autistic Author, tags will be added as story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-06-27 09:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15682992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spitecentral/pseuds/spitecentral
Summary: When Ed's six, he accidentally kills his father in an attempt to heal him using alchemy, causing him to give it up forever. When Winry's six, her parents die, and in her desperation to bring them back, she starts learning alchemy. Al, longing to have a stable parent, helps her, and together they commit the ultimate sin: human transmutation.Naturally, it all goes wrong.(Role Reversal AU where Ed's an automail mechanic, Winry's a suit of armor, and Al the Fullmetal Alchemist, with a metal arm and an inability to love.)





	1. Rebound

There was a funeral procession with two empty caskets. The bodies were far away, buried under desert sand. Unrecognizable, according to the military officers that'd come to visit them. 

"We couldn't bring them home," they'd apologized, playing at remorse, even as they were shuffling out the door.

Granny gave the eulogy herself, eyes dry and back straight. Winry sobbed. She was doubled over, shoulders hunched and hitching, Ed awkwardly tried to comfort her by rubbing her back. Her sobs and Granny's voice were the only things to break the respectful silence of villagers, still shocked even days after the news. They crowded around the graves as the caskets were lowered in, their heads respectfully bowed, and Winry wanted nothing more than to scream.

Eventually, everyone left. Ed wanted to stay, but he was dragged off by Granny. 

"She needs some time," she stated, grabbing his hand. She was about to do the same to Al when Winry said:

"I'd like him to stay."

Al looked up, surprised. Granny frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Then they were gone, and it was her and Alphonse before the graves. The gentle summer breeze brought the smell of roasting beef with it, warm and comforting. She used to smell the same when her dad cooked stew.

"Al?"

"Hm?"

"Is there a way to bring people back to life?"

The wind died down.

Al hesitated. "It's taboo," he finally said.

"That's not what I asked."

"Nobody's ever done it."

"Not what I asked."

He paused. "You'll have to learn alchemy."

"Why did you think I wanted to ask you instead of Ed?"

He glanced off to the side, to another grave, before quickly looking away. 

"I've been making calculations," he said. "I think it's possible."

"Good. I'm in."

The sunlight glinted off the gravestones.

///

Six months previous, there had been another funeral. The procession hadn't been as silent as this one had been. Instead, there'd been hushed voices and quiet gossips, whispers that carried in the wind. 

"Did you hear...?"

"Gosh, it's awful..."

"Well, I don't know what he expected, tampering with forces beyond his control."

Then, too, Winry and Al had ended up as the last ones before the grave. The difference was that Ed had never been at the funeral in the first place. He was still at home, laid up in bed, refusing to talk, nearly catatonic. Granny said he was in too much pain to even think about going out of the house. That much was probably true, but Winry wasn't so sure the pain was physical.

Another difference was that the day had been overcast instead of sunny, rain hanging heavy in the air, breeze a little more than gentle. She stood there, shivering in her neatest black dress, even though she privately thought that Uncle Hohenheim wouldn't have minded it if she'd put on more casual attire. 

"Al? I'm getting cold."

Al said nothing, sitting quietly in front of the grave, knees drawn up to his chest. 

"It's gonna rain soon."

"Do you think Brother'll be okay?"

She gripped the hem of her dress. "I don't know."

"He has to be, right?" There was a note of desperation in his voice. "He's all I have left now."

"Hey! Don't say that!" She grabbed his shoulders and forced him to face her. "You're mom's coming to visit in just a couple of months!"

"But is she gonna stay for longer than a week this time?" Al asked, voice carefully blank.

She faltered. "I mean... She has too, right? Your dad's dead, it's not like she can just leave you alone -"

Her voice trailed off. 

"But even if she doesn't stay, you still got me and Granny!" she finished, forcing as much cheer as possible. "It'll be fine!"

Al stared at her for seconds, hollow. 

"Yeah," he echoed. "It'll be just fine."

And Winry hugged him and that's how they sat, two lying children in front of the grave, six months before.

///

They raided Trisha's stash of alchemy books, Al pulling two off the shelf. 

"These're for beginners," he said. "Or, well, closest thing we get in here. They're still pretty difficult. Think you'll be okay?"

She opened the first book, a thin one with even thinner pages, and saw circles and diagrams that made her head spin. The second one, large and bound in leather, didn't have any drawings, just words in a language she didn't understand. 

"What's this?" she said, holding up the leather book. 

Al made a face. "That's mom's language, I think. She doesn't like to talk about it, but me and Brother figured out how to read it pretty quick. I can probably teach you."

Winry nodded. She held up the thinner one. "What's this about?"

"Basic alchemical symbols, the ones you use to construct a transmutation circle. See, the salamander stands for 'fire', but that one's only ever really used as guidance, never a main symbol, whereas this one here, 'transformation', is in pretty much every circle..."

They spent the afternoon in the study, Al carefully explaining the symbols in the thin book and teaching her the letters in the thick one. When they finally got tired of that, she practiced drawing circles while Al took out the thickest books on the shelf and began researching, occasionally scribbling down unreadable notes.

Halfway through her seventh page of circles, Ed came up the stairs.

"What're you doing?"

They looked up, Winry trying shove her papers behind her, before taking a deep breath and reminding herself that she wasn't doing anything illegal. Yet.

"Learning alchemy."

"Why?"

The question was innocent enough, but it was spat out like a curse. Ed was leaning heavily against the doorpost, keeping his weight off his newly fitted prosthetic leg (normal, not automail, although that was being planned), his remaining arm clutching his stump. Even from several feet away, Winry could see that all of his muscles were tightened. 

"Because I want to," she said. "And you can't stop me."

He chocked on his words, threw a murderous glare at Al, and stormed out as fast as he could. Which wasn't all that fast. He was still getting used to his prosthesis. 

"That was mean," Al chided. 

She snorted. "He'll learn to live with it when he gets his dad back."

///

Aunt Trisha came home precisely a month afterwards. Ed hid in his room for the entire duration of the visit, and no one, not even Al, could convince him to come out. Trisha spent the entire first day in front of Hohenheim's grave, only coming back when the sun had already set, tear streaks barely visible in the mechanical light of the house.

Winry slept over at the Elrics' for the entire week. She couldn't get Ed to come out or even open his door, so she slept with Alphonse, sneaking in alchemy books to study by candlelight. 

"You could just ask mom, you know," Al said on the third night. 

Winry looked up from her book. "Don't you think she'll notice?"

"Notice what?"

"That we're, y'know," she lowered her voice, "trying to bring back the dead?"

Al shrugged. "I don't think so. You're just a beginner."

Winry considered that. "Alright. I'll ask tomorrow."

On the morning of the fourth day, she asked. 

"Aunt Trisha? Do you think you could help me study alchemy?"

Trisha looked up from the tea kettle, blinking in surprise. 

"You're studying alchemy?"

Winry shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "Well, Ed's not doing it anymore, and Al seemed lonely, so why not?"

At the mention of Ed, Trisha's eyes clouded over, and Winry barely suppressed a flinch. But the dark atmosphere only lasted for a second; as quick as it came, it disappeared, and Trisha was all smiles again. 

She put down the kettle, picking up the cups and putting one in front of Winry. The tea tasted flowery, nothing like the earthly flavors in Resembool. Not for the first time, she wondered where Trisha went when she was away. It wasn't like she ever talked about it, aside from the odd little anecdote here and there, but even those were vague enough that they might as well have happened around the corner from their local butcher. 

"Learning alchemy, huh?" Trisha hummed, leaning back in her chair, staring into her teacup with a faint, strangely bitter smile on her face. "Well, I suppose you'd need a teacher. I met a good alchemist some time ago in Dublin; she doesn't take apprentices, but she owes me a favor, and if I put in a good word for you I don't think she'd mind terribly much."

"Really?" Winry asked, shooting forward so violently she almost dropped her tea. "You could get me an actual teacher?"

This time, when Trisha smiled, it was a real one. "Sure! And I might convince her to take Al too. Who knows, maybe a bit of time alone might also help -"

She trailed off, and they both tried their best not to stare at the ceiling, towards the direction of Ed's room. Again, there was a brief shadow over the conversation, but it couldn't last long. Winry was too excited. 

Before she fully realized what she was doing, she'd run around the table and tackled Trisha into a hug. 

"Thank you!" she yelled, clutching her tightly. "Thank you!"

It took a moment, but then Trisha hugged her back. "It's my pleasure."

Three days later, she left again. She went up to Ed's room right before she did, and came down ten minutes later. Winry didn't know whether they'd actually had a conversation. She hoped so. 

"I'll make a stop at Dublin soon," Trisha said to Winry, as she put on her coat. "If all goes well, your teacher should come knocking within a month."

She barely managed to keep herself from jumping up and down, and next to her, Al was grinning like mad. 

"My teacher too, right?" he asked. 

Trisha ruffled his hair. "Of course! Although, before you get too excited, I should warn you that she's a little... strict."

Al waved her off. "Whatever it is, I'm sure we can handle it."

Winry nodded enthusiastically. Trisha gave her a slight smile and shook her head.

"Ah, the folly of youth," she muttered under her breath. Then she waved goodbye and off she was, again.

///

A month later, there was indeed a teacher, and she was indeed... strict. 

They spent a month on an island, trying to survive, and although the mysterious spirit turned out to be a nice guy who was looking after them, it was still pretty rough. 

"Oh, come on!" Teacher huffed when they complained. "It could've been worse."

"How?" Winry whined, trying to scrub the dirt from her hands.

"Well, I could've made him pretend to be a _violent_ spirit, for one. Or I could've dropped you two off in the mountains of Briggs, like my teacher did with me."

Al dropped the soap. "Your teacher did _what_?"

"Hm, yeah, during the winter. I caught a bear with my bare hands, you know. But your hands looked too soft to even pierce its skin, let alone break its bones, so I figured I'd go easy on you."

Winry and Al stared at each other in horror and wondered, not for the first time, what they'd gotten themselves into.

All in all, it was an interesting year.

///

When they came back, they weren't the only ones who'd changed. 

Ed had officially been outfitted with automail, and was well underway in his rehabilitation. He still couldn't walk long distances without a cane or his wheelchair, and his fine motor control was lacking at best, but he seemed a lot more lively and a lot less... dead inside. At first, Winry thought that was just because of the automail, but that turned out to be a miscalculation.

"Brother's your apprentice?" Al asked in surprise.

Granny huffed. "Yeah, took on the brat because he wouldn't stop sulking. Pretty good at it, actually, although you shouldn't tell him I said that. Wouldn't want him to get an even bigger head then he already has."

"Granny!" Ed yelled from the hallway. "Customer on the phone who won't believe me when I tell him that we can't put flame throwers into automail."

Granny cursed. "Why do we always get the weird ones," she muttered, before scampering off to Ed. 

Winry threw a glance at Al. "This is so weird."

He shrugged. "As long as Brother's happy, you won't hear me complaining."

///

Over the next few years, they specialized. 

Al turned out to be fabulous at research, spitting through Trisha's study, sniffing out important information like a pitbull, writing to scholars and libraries all over the country to obtain the information they needed. 

Winry, meanwhile, took to the more biological side of things, nurturing the little medical knowledge her parents had taught her to perfection, until she knew where every tendon, every bone, every vein was located in the body, and how they all hung together. She combined this knowledge with transmutation, slowly but surely asking Al for more and more information on biochemical alchemy, of which there turned out to be precious little. 

"There's got to be a better way!" she exclaimed, frustrated, after reading the umpteenth paper that told her that she'd need to combine multiple living animals to create enough tissue for a single human body, provided you didn't want to use actual life humans.

"Yuck," Al added, looking over her shoulder at the picture of a chimera. 

"Yeah, and it's in terrible pain as well, probably. Look at the way that shoulder's set! The position is all wrong; there's no way it has a full range of movement, let alone movement that's painless."

"Couldn't we just... combine the elements in the human body? Put them in a big tub and create a human that way?"

Winry snorted. "Sure, if you want to create something that might pass for a human corpse. For a living human, however, you need functioning cells, and unless you wanna tell me you've unraveled the secrets of microbiology, we'll need to use pre-existing ones. We can't just build from scratch."

"So, we'll have to use, like, bunnies?"

"Over my dead body," she growled, shoving her book aside in favor of her pen and paper. "I'll figure out how to do this without living creatures if it'll be the death of me."

///

It wasn't the death of her. It only took three months before she kicked open Al's door and shoved fully functioning human tissue in his face.

///

Five years after their parents died, they finally decided that they were ready. Winry was eleven when she arranged the pre-grown human tissue and organs into something resembling Hohenheim, while Al drew the transmutation circle. First, they'd bring back Uncle Hohenheim, and then her mother, and then her dad. They had everything they needed. It'd be perfect.

"Ready, Al?" she asked.

Al cut his finger, letting the blood drip onto the vaguely human shaped mess. It'd glue together during the transmutation. She was sure of that.

Finally, he turned to her. 

"Ready," he said, a grin on his face.

They took their position, slammed their hands down on the circle. Dust blew up as blue light began to fill the room, and she stared with giddy awe as the tissue she'd created was sown together, filling up exactly as a human would.

Then the light turned red, an eye opened, and the last thing she remembered was her hand dissolving right before Alphonse could catch it.

She hadn't felt a thing.

///

There was blood around her, flowing onto the floor, and she couldn't feel it. Couldn't smell the air. Couldn't sense any flesh at all, her body foreign, and not the foreign she was used to; this body didn't even feel human.

She was standing in a pool of blood, and her best friend was dying.

"Al!" she yelled, her own voice echoing back to her, and as she reached out, she heard the clunking of metal as her own steel hands came into view.

She stared. 

Al gasped, and that pulled her out of her her trance. 

"I'm sorry," he grunted out, clutching the place where his arm had been, blood seeping through his fingers. "I'm sorry. It was - It was all I could -" 

He tried to move, but yelled out in pain instead, falling to the ground, gasping, groaning, sobbing. 

"Don't talk," she hissed, flinching back at the echo of her voice. "I'll get you to Granny, you'll be fine."

She scooped him up in her arms, trying her best to ignore the fact that his weight didn't register, that she couldn't sense the stickiness of blood, couldn't feel his body heat, and ran out of the basement.

As she left, she caught a glimpse of what they'd made. The human body.

It was perfect. 

///

Ed opened the door, and the rain hadn't washed away his brother's blood from her arms, only distributed across her new, metal body, and she realized that this was exactly what he'd been afraid of, all those years ago, when he found her practicing her circles in his mother's study.


	2. Brush off the Dirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed deals with the immediate aftermath of the failed transmutation.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen a dead body, and all in all, the second was a lot less traumatizing than the first. This one didn't have its chest ripped open, its organs weren't spilling out, its limbs were still where they should be (untwisted and unbroken, even), and, of course, he hadn't killed this one himself. 

Nothing could ever surpass the horror of that first body.

Which didn't mean that this one didn't try its damned hardest.

Not-Dad's limbs flopped lifelessly as he and Granny had lifted him - it - from its place in the transmutation circle. Its clothes and hair were drenched in blood, just like they'd been with his real dad's corpse, but this time, he knew that it wasn't Dad's blood. It was Al's, and maybe Winry's too, since they still didn't know where her body had gone. They'd been hoping to find it here in the basement, but even a quick scan confirmed that it wasn't there, unless it had somehow turned itself into a pile of blood and bile. 

Which was a very real possibility, considering the fact that alchemy was involved. Even Ed, with his outdated knowledge, could read the little of the transmutation circle that wasn't covered in blood and acknowledge that there was really no telling what a rebound would do with a circle this complex. 

Part of him was almost proud of Al and Winry for getting this far. That part was easily crushed when Not-Dad's head rolled over to his side, glassy, lifeless eyes staring straight at him. 

He gagged. 

"You okay?" Granny asked, turning to look at him over her shoulder.

"Fine," he said brusquely. "Let's just get this over with."

Granny didn't look like she believed him for a second, but she didn't slow her pace. He barely managed to stifle a sigh of relief. His hands were holding onto the corpse's cold, almost mushy flesh. Rigor mortis hadn't set in yet (if it ever would, considering the circumstances of the body's creation), and his fingers were clawing at pudgy arms to find a grip, leaving dents and scratches in their wake. He'd shivered the first time he'd touched it, and even now, he had to keep track of his breaths to keep himself from panicking, and he was fast losing count.

At long last, they reached the outside, and he greedily gulped in the air as they finally, _finally_ dropped the body. For just a few seconds, he doubled over, hugging himself tightly, swaying on his feet as he tried to get his breathing back under control. Granny watched him, shovel already in her hand.

"You sure you don't wanna go back?"

He snatched the remaining shovel up. "Not a damn chance."

Digging the grave took the rest of the morning. By the time they could throw the corpse in it, the sun shone high in the sky. He watched as Granny piled on the first scoops of dirt, obscuring Not-Dad's face. 

Filling up the grave went faster, and the sun had barely moved when they were finally done.

"Let's go home," Granny said.

"We still need to clean the basement," Ed replied, forcing the tremor out of his voice.

Granny patted his back, pushing him towards the path leading down the hill. "We'll do it later, we got more important things to do. You can't avoid Winry forever, brat. She's gonna need you, and Al too, when he wakes up."

And wasn't that the crux of the problem?

///

Winry sat next to Al, in a chair too small for her, hunched over and fidgeting with her thumbs. It would've been quiet, if she'd actually had a human body. As is, the clanging of metal echoed through the room, and she flinched back at every sound, amplifying the noise even more. 

Ed tried to slip into the room as quietly as he could. It was no use. The door creaked, and even if it hadn't, he'd still need to ask Winry to move if he wanted to have any chance of changing Al's bandages. 

"Ed?" she asked, cocking her head in a way that'd been cute when she still had her body; now, it was unnerving, body language out of place on a spiky suit of armor. 

He waved the bandages in his hands. "Just changing them."

She nodded - a sharp _cling _\- but didn't move to step aside.__

____

"Uhm, I can't reach him if you're there."

____

She jumped slightly, looking down at the distance between her and the bed, and hastily moved away. 

____

"Sorry, it's still a bit hard to - to -"

____

"It's okay, don't worry about it."

____

Al was pale and sweating, still running a fewer despite his and Granny's greatest efforts. They'd given him antibiotics, regularly checked his temperature and his wound, and there was very little else they could do, so now it was up to Al to push through. It'd only been a day, and Granny was confident that he'd make it; with such a violent amputation, it wasn't strange that he'd be sick for a while.

____

Carefully, he lifted him up, cutting through the dirty bandages with practiced precision, swiftly replacing them with newer ones after a quick inspection. The wound looked good, no sign of infection at all, and the thermometer showed a lower temperature than it had just this morning. Al was recovering as smoothly as could be expected. 

____

It almost made it possible to ignore that his sweaty, sleeping face was nearly identical to Dad's, when he'd been sick.

____

"He's doing okay," Ed said, throwing the old bandages in the trash with his used plastic gloves. "He'll probably be awake by tomorrow."

____

"Good."

____

The silence stretched between them, awkwardly. Ed resolutely kept his gaze on the water that was running from the faucet as he washed his hands. 

____

"Ed?"

____

"Hm?"

____

"You know you can look me in the eyes, right?"

____

The water kept running over his hands, and he stared at it, mesmerized. The artificial flower smell of soap clung to the air, and as the cold water kept drowning them, a tingling, stinging feeling began to spread through his flesh hand, before it slowly numbed itself.

____

"Ed?"

____

He startled, shook his head, and turned off the faucet. 

____

"Of course I know," he said, turning to face her. For a second, he looked her in the eye. Burning red lights stared back at him from the blackness of the armor's eye sockets, inhuman. There was no pupil, and no real gaze; the light didn't waver or adjust like a human's eye might, and even when it was looking him straight in the eye, it seemed like it was seeing right through him. It had no presence, not like a human's eye. It didn't hurt.

____

He looked away.

____

"It's just taking a while to get used to, y'know?" he lied. "I mean, I already got some issues, and this is..."

____

"Oh!" Winry quickly waved her hands, the metal flickering in the last rays of the sun, and looked away from him as well. "That's fine! Take your time, I didn't mean -" 

____

"Does it bother you?"

____

She stilled, before recovering. "It doesn't matter -"

____

"Idiot!"

____

Before she had time to react, Ed punched forward, his automail arm hitting the metal breastplate with a loud CLANG. He spread his fingers against the armor, his palm flat, and stared at his hand, comparing the colour of the armor's metal with his own. It wasn't too different.

____

"It matters," he said through gritted teeth, "If you're uncomfortable, it matters. I'll deal with it."

____

"It also matters if you're uncomfortable," she argued back. The empty red lights were fixated on his automail. "I mean, I don't blame you. I look weird, and angry, and we're not even sure..."

____

_If I'm human_ , whispered the silence. _If I'm still me_.

____

"Stop talking bullshit," Ed barked. "We'll figure it out. We'll figure it out, and you'll have your body back in no time, and until then, I'll deal with it, like I deal with it around hu- _other_ humans."

____

The lights turned to his face, and this time, he didn't look away. He half expected a smile, but of course, a metal head couldn't move its mouth. So instead, he did it for her, smiling as brightly as he could. It still shook, but that was okay.

____

Suddenly, he felt two large hands on his back, and he was pulled in for a hug. It was clumsy, hard, cold and almost painful, not at all the same as human touch, but he hugged back as tightly as he could.

____

"Thanks, Ed," Winry said, her voice as shaky as his smile.

____

After that, they untangled, said polite goodbyes, and with a last look at Al, Ed was out of the door. He practically ran, digging his nails into his palm, focusing on the sensation of pain as he headed up the stairs.

____

He knocked on Granny's door.

____

"What's it, brat?" she yelled, not even bothering to open it.

____

"Warn me when it's time to change Al's bandages again, okay? I'm gonna go to my room for a while." His voice was too loud, almost foreign, and he flinched. 

____

"You know I can do that, right?" Granny said, more concerned now, and he heard the screeching of a chair being pushed across the ground, followed by footsteps. 

____

"I want to. And remember that we still need to clean up the basement. See you."

____

"Hey now, wait a second -"

____

She was loud, close to the door, but he didn't stay to see it open. Instead, he hurried to his room, frantically opening the lock and throwing himself inside.

____

Then, he finally let himself sink through his legs, burying his head in his knees, pulling at his hair as he rocked slowly back and forth, silent as the house around him.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ed'd guilt complex is going into Maximum Overdrive, and Winry's... not doing great. At all. 
> 
> I swear we're getting off the depression train at some point, but it probably won't be for at least another two/three chapters, so prepare for that. On the bright side, when we finally do get off the SS Trauma, we should be getting a less melodramatic writing style. I hope.
> 
> Just three quick chapter notes (bc I'm physically incapable of shutting up)
> 
> \- I always wondered why on Earth the thing Ed and Al transmutated was so deformed, because logically, if they got the theory right but just couldn't pay the toll (like the show said), they should have a perfect human body that's just empty. I figured that it was probably a combination of two pre-teens missing the medical knowledge required, not having functioning human tissue as a result, and also no knowledge of Alkahestry (which would be more suited for a biological transmutation like this). Since Winry has more knowledge of biochemical alchemy and biology in general, the body is outwardly perfect in this fic, but if a soul had actually been transferred, it still would've malfunctioned because she doesn't have knowledge precise enough to make everything function perfectly, plus there would've been a rejection of the soul by a body not made to house it, like Barry the Chopper's and Al's started doing.
> 
> \- Ed's autistic in this fic because a) I'm autistic and I like projecting, b) I want to practice my integration of autistic traits into a story not about autism, and c) fuck you. The eyesight section was about that; it physically hurts most autistic people to look people in the eye, so that's what Ed's referring to when he talks about his 'issues'. In this case, Ed's actually more freaked out by the fact that it /doesn't/ hurt him to look in Winry's new eyes; it's nice, but that's wrapped up in a whole lot of guilt, and it's also still unsettling because it's just so obviously Not Human. Aside from that, there were also multiple instances of stimming, and Ed has a shutdown in the last paragraph. I'm not going to put a note like this on every chapter in which he's noticeably autistic, but since it's the first and there wasn't a pre-existing tag for it, I decided to point it out.
> 
> \- At this point in the story, Al hasn't woken up yet, and since Winry is taking Al's role in not remembering what happened at the Gate, everyone is currently unsure what the hell has happened to her. Granny and Ed are treating her like she's still, well, the original Winry, but Winry herself is going full Barry The Chopper Manipulating Al and... isn't taking it well. There's this lingering doubt for all of them, though. Al will put those worries to rest soon... for now.
> 
> I swear the author's notes will get less extensive as time goes on!


	3. Hollow Chest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *spongebob voice* several weeks later
> 
> I'm sorry this update took so long, but I'm gonna be real with you guys here, this is probably the update rate you should be getting used to, because my writing process can best be described as "slowly and painfully". 
> 
> Also I apologize in advance for the shitty fucking quality of this piece of trash, but I've spent too long on it to care so WHATEVER

The first thing he heard when he woke up was the whirring of the ceiling fan. It was also the first thing he saw when he woke up, the blades moving round and round in circles, casting long shadows against dim light.

For a moment, he blinked, wondering where he was. Then he noticed that he couldn't feel his left arm, and he remembered. Breath locked in his throat, and he pressed his remaining hand against his mouth in order to stifle the sobs. 

"Al!"

It was a voice from his right, hollow and echoing, and he couldn't recognize who it was supposed to be, and he couldn't find it in himself to roll over to check. His breathing was coming in short, painful gasps, oxygen never quite seeming to reach his lungs, tears flowing freely down his face despite his trembling hand muffling the sounds he wanted to make. He didn't know why it was important to stay quiet, just that it was, somehow.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, you're okay, don't worry, let it out."

Something was leaning over the bed towards him, something made from spikes and metal, casting shadows over the bed while cloaked in them itself, so dark that the only thing he could clearly make out amongst them were the eerie pinpricks of red light that shone from where its eyes might have been.

It reached out to touch him, and he was shaking too hard to even flinch away.

The hand settled on his shoulder, and it was heavy, but not crushing. It rested gently against him, squeezing softly in rhythm with his sobs, providing grounding comfort. 

"There, it's okay, just let it out, you'll be fine."

And with a jolt, he realized who the voice was supposed to be, and what was leaning over his bed. 

Winry's hand was too large for her, her voice alien and hollow, and nothing, absolutely nothing about this was going to be fine. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt like he should stop crying anyway. It's the same part that insisted he should keep his sobs quiet, and it's yelling at him to sit up straight and comfort Winry. She has it worse than him, undeniably. So what if he lost his arm? She's missing her entire body. He needs to be strong for her, the voice insists.

But the voice was a mere echo of what it might've been, once. It's a leftover from a feeling that's no longer there, that was taken before his arm; now it's just an abstract idea of duty rather than its own emotion or instinct. A much, much larger part of him wanted to cry, so he did. 

He removed his hand from his mouth, clutching the hand on his shoulder instead, and sobbed as loudly as he could, clinging to Winry as she hugged him, as he cried himself dry.

Finally, after the hitches died down and he felt like he could breathe again, he closed his eyes and leaned in against the metal arm that had encircled him.

"Sorry," he croaked. 

Winry snorted, as much as one could without a tongue, mouth, or throat. "I think you earned a freak out."

He chuckled weakly, and tried to ignore the growing feeling of guilt in his gut. Because he hadn't apologized for his 'freak out'. He knew he owed himself one. It was only logical to have something of a breakdown after this amount of trauma. 

But he also knew that he would've suppressed it, before. He would've taken a deep breath and forced his emotions down into the chest where he kept all of the things, thoughts, and emotions that could hurt other people. Before, he would've put Winry's needs first, asked her how she was holding up, ensured her that he'd be alright, and that she should just worry about herself. Because it was the middle of the night, as evidenced by the darkened windows and candlelight, and she was still wide awake, and it occurred to him now that she might not even be able to sleep, in a body that couldn't produce melatonine. Because she'd made no indication that she could feel the way he squeezed her hands tight, because she'd been the one to carry him to her house, bleeding all the way. Before, he would've thought that he didn't have the right to be freaking out and breaking down, and he wouldn't have accepted her comfort while she had to be on the edge of drowning herself.

Was that irrational? He felt like it was. He felt like it'd have been a stupid decision to lock all of his emotions away, to ignore his own hurt. After what he'd been through, he deserved to feel hurt, and he deserved to break down, he felt like. Was it really so wrong to accept comfort, even when the one comforting you must be hurting a lot worse?

He didn't know. His instincts told him that no, of course it wasn't wrong. Regardless of how much worse someone else has it, you can still be hurt yourself, and it isn't wrong to accept comfort when offered. 

But he knew that he would've recoiled at the idea, before, and there's only one reason why what seemed so logical now would've been appalling then. 

An absence of love guiding his morals. 

"Sorry," he said again, convincing himself that the guilt he felt was for his actions.

///

Like he predicted, Winry was incapable of sleep.

"I've tried," she admitted, fidgeting with one of her gloves, the scraping of metal on metal sounding through the room. "But it just doesn't happen. I can close my eyes - sprt of, I don't know what it looks like on the outside when I do - but I don't have to blink anymore, and if I can't sleep, I just don't see the point."

She was hunched over, her knees pressed together, making herself as small as possible. Even still, she looked like a hulking, spiky monster. It was no wonder he'd been scared of her when he first woke up.

(Was that okay to think? Was it okay to describe his best friend as a monster, even if he was only referring to her appearance? Was it alright to give himself a pass for being scared of her when he first woke up? Or was it a sign of immorality, of apathy for his friends?)

"Al?"

Her voice shook him out of his thoughts. 

"Yes?"

"I... Do you know... Do you know what I am?"

Her voice and stare were hollow like always, but her hands were balled to fists, and she was refusing to look at him. 

"What?" he asked, bewildered. 

"I'm in this body now, but where's my old one?" she asked, still refusing to look at him. "Is it even me in here now? Or is it... something else, held together by the blood seal?"

He stared at her, for one, two, three long seconds. 

"Don't you remember?" he finally said. 

"Remember what?"

"The Gate."

She looked at him, finally, cocking her head. "The what?"

Giant, ordained gates against a sea of emptiness, with a smiling, cruel god in front of it, its body made of static although its arm was now flesh. 

"It's where I went, after the transmutation." He took a deep breath and willed his hands to stop shaking. This wasn't about him right now. "There was... something in from of it. Or someone. It called itself the Truth. It's in charge of the Gate, and it opens it for the people who commit Human Transmutation. But not without a toll."

The whirring of the fan was the only thing filling the silence. 

"I paid with my body," Winry finally said, strained even through the echo-like filter of her helmet. 

"And I paid my arm to get you back," Alphonse added. Then he cracked a shaky smile. "If you were only a construct, I'd have tried to bargain it down to a pinky."

Winry barked a laugh at that, and it continued until her shoulders started hitching and she finally fell quiet.

"I can't cry," she whispered, voice wavering. "I can't even cry."

He felt a stab in his gut, and he leaned forward best as he could, laying a hand on her shoulder. 

"I'm sorry," he said, and neither of them cried. 

///

"Al!" 

Before he knew what happened, Brother had made a beeline for his bed and flung his arms around him, crushing him tightly to his chest. Al blinked, once, twice, and stared at the dim rays of sunlight coming in through the window from over Ed's shoulder. 

He'd forgotten about Brother.

( _Who the hell forgets their brother? _)__

__"You fucking idiot!" he yelled into Al's ear, voice furious but shaking almost as hard as his shoulders were, and Al's neck was getting wet._ _

__Slowly, Al reached up with his remaining arm, hugging him back._ _

__"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry."_ _

__///_ _

__"Should we tell him?"_ _

__The room had been silent since Brother had left to get Granny, but Winry's voice echoed loudly through it._ _

__He winced. It would take some time to get used to that._ _

__"Tell him what?"_ _

__"You know." She shifted in her seat, looking at the floor. "About the Gate."_ _

__He felt ice grow in his chest, his breath stuttering, and he knew that if he allowed himself to go down that rabbit hole, he wouldn't stop panicking._ _

__"No."_ _

__Winry glanced over at him, metal face impassive as always. "He deserves to know."_ _

___Brother's disgusted face when he inevitably, inevitably found out what was wrong with him - ____ _

____"Not yet," he said. Pleaded. "I'll tell him later, just... not yet."_ _ _ _

____Winry's empty red eyes stared at him for a moment longer, before she looked away and dropped the subject._ _ _ _

____///_ _ _ _

____(They had sat in silence for a while, Al's hand on Winry's shoulder, even after they stopped shaking._ _ _ _

____The candle had almost burnt up before she spoke again._ _ _ _

____"What did it take?"_ _ _ _

____The metal was suddenly a lot colder under his hand, and he snatched it back._ _ _ _

____"What do you mean?" he asked, in a bid for time._ _ _ _

____"The Gate. You said you traded your arm for me. What did it take for the transmutation?"_ _ _ _

____For a second, he imagined lying, imagined saying "my organs" or something similar, imagined living that lie for the rest of his life. Could he do that? Or would they notice that something was wrong, regardless?_ _ _ _

____Maybe. Maybe not. He could hardly imagine that they wouldn't, but it was too early to say. It didn't matter, anyway. He wouldn't lie. She deserved to know this._ _ _ _

____"Love," he said, his voice as hollow as he felt. "It took my ability to love.")_ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sticks leggy up in the air* there's nothing in the fma universe that states the truth /has/ to take a body part as toll
> 
> but anyway this chapter feels grossly ooc for everyone involved but I can't figure out /why/ so if you know don't hesitate to let me know and I'll try to fix it
> 
> Next up: our first hurt/comfort chapter instead of straight-up angst, so that's... good?


	4. A Bracelet of Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winry deals with some dysphoria, and Ed tries to help while dealing with his own shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have several excuses for why this took so long, but the basic gist of the matter is that both my real life and this chapter absolutely refused to cooperate with anything I've tried to do, and I'm sorry if it's not great, but I'm very happy to have this finished at least!

This body didn't feel like hers.

It wasn't a new feeling, not by any stretch of the imagination. For as long as she could remember, she had avoided mirrors, had changed in and out of clothes with inhuman speed, had tugged uncomfortably at dresses and shifted even more uncomfortably in jeans. She was used to feeling like an intruder in her own body, and she was used to gritting her teeth and ignoring it, so much so that it barely even registered with her now. 

But this... this was different.

Her old body had been wrong, yes, but she had been able to disguise it. Ever since she'd insisted on wearing dresses and being called a girl as a toddler, she had been working to be seen as who she was, to minimize the chance of other people recognizing how foreign her body was to her. And it had worked. Of course, Resembool did still remember that the Rockbells had been thought to have a son at first, but nobody saw her as such anymore, not after almost ten years of stubbornly insisting that they were wrong, and dressing the part, and acting the part. In her old body, it had been easy enough to be seen as a girl.

This new one, however, was foreign territory. It was enormous, towering over anything and everything, making her bump her head into doorways when she wasn't paying attention; it was bulky, made for a man much more muscular than her or anyone she knew - the armor could probably fit Al, Ed, and Pinako in it all at once. When she leaned closer to the mirror in an attempt to get a better look at herself, her hand steadying her against the wall, the glass cracked, and it wasn't until she examined herself more closely that she realized her thumb had been pressing against the mirror's edge. She hadn't felt anything, because metal had no nerve system to carry stimuli to her brain. It was just an empty shell of molecules that happened to carry her body, now.

She couldn't hide this, not how she had hidden her human body. She would look ridiculous if she ever attempted to wear dresses, and make-up would do nothing to reshape her face into something more feminine - after all, blush on steel looks somewhat out of place.

As she stood there, staring at her fractured reflection in the broken window, only illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window, she thought grimly to herself _Well, at least I still have long hair_.

And that was the point where she couldn't take it anymore. Brusquely, she pushed herself away from the wall, shattering the mirror further in the process, and moved out into the hallway, desperate to get out of her room. She didn't quite know where she was going; she had done her fair share of stargazing over the last week of sleepless nights, and everyone in the house would be fast asleep. Normally, she'd go watch over Al, but, well - 

( _"It took my ability to love."_ )

He'd woken up, now, so that was useless.

She was about to stomp past Ed's bedroom when she noticed the light streaming out into the hallway from the little crack in Ed's door. If she strained, she could hear a soldering machine at work.

She hesitated for a second, before turning to Ed's door and slowly, carefully, pushing it open.

Ed was bent over an automail arm, chewing attentively on a strand of hair, soldering parts of the metal together, wearing his working gear, his safety goggles and thick gloves protecting him from the flying sparks. He didn't even notice that she'd come in.

"Ed?" she whispered, trying not to startle him. 

She failed. He jumped into the air, throwing the soldering machine away from him. It landed on the desk with a loud _clang_ , and Winry winced; thankfully, it turned off by itself when Ed wasn't holding the button down, so if anyone woke up, at least it wouldn't be to a house fire. 

"God, Winry, what the fuck, don't you know how to knock?"

"Sorry. Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?"

She just stared at him for three whole seconds, letting the silence sink in, before pointing at the moon outside, adding a deadpan: "Because this is a perfectly normal time to be awake."

"Oh, fuck off," Ed picked up the soldering machine and carefully placed it back into his tool kit. "If it's so late, why're you here?"

"Can't sleep."

Ed turned to her and opened his mouth, undoubtedly to throw a nasty comeback, before his eyes grew wide and he looked away again. "Right," he said, studying the desk as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. "Sorry."

She shrugged. "Not your fault."

She moved across the room to Ed's bed, which was even more of a mess than usual. The blankets were lying balled up in a corner, most likely thrown there in a fit of rage, and his pajamas hung haphazardly over the edge. His pillow was missing entirely, and when she threw a searching glance at the rest of the room, she spotted it right next to the door, lying sadly on the floor.

She sat down.

"Nightmares?"

Ed shrugged uncomfortably, sinking down into his chair, fingers nervously drumming against the desk. "Something like that."

"So, not at all like that, got it."

"It's really not important."

"Sure."

"Really!"

She sighed. "Look, Ed, if you don't want to talk about it, fine, I'm not going to interrogate you, but at least don't lie, okay?"

He said nothing for a good, long while, and in the silence, Winry stood up, gathering the pajamas to fold them, just for something to do. As she was busy, the finger drumming behind her stopped. "Mom didn't come."

Oh.

Yesterday had been the last day of July, and Trisha still hadn't come. Over the years, her visits had gotten more irregular, with her sometimes showing up two weeks after her normal date, and the visits had also shortened drastically, now rarely lasting longer than four days. But she'd never actually outright _missed_ the entire month of July. She had already seen the way the sporadic, hasty visits had grated on Ed (more than they had on Al, because Al had been planning on having his father back soon, but that was maybe not the best thing to think off right now), but a completely _missed_ visit... that had to be worse. Way, way worse.

Winry turned to see Ed with his arms crossed, pressed tightly against his chest as he stubbornly looked at the wall. "It's nothing," he hissed, pulling his arms a little tighter. "It's not like she even cares about it."

"Ed -" she tried, but he cut her off. 

"Don't," he warned. "Just don't."

The silence hang heavy in the room, and her eyes flitted towards the door. Stargazing sounded good right now. 

But no, she really couldn't leave him alone right now, and if she was honest, she couldn't be alone right now herself, either. So, silently, she went back to folding the pajamas, losing herself in the simple, methodical task. 

Until the metal of her gloves caught the fabric and teared it.

"Goddamnit!" she yelled, throwing the pants to the ground. She pressed one hand against her face, wishing she had tears to hold back, and mumbled "Goddamnit" again.

"Winry?" Ed's voice said from behind her, soft and hesitant.

"It's nothing," she said, picking the pants up again, her hand shaking. "Just having a bad day. Night. Whatever."

"Oh." Silence. Then, the sound of a scraping throat, and: "Uh, is this, like, a normal bad day, or an 'I was recently traumatized' bad day?"

She barked a laugh. "An 'I was recently put in the most manly body on Earth, which also happens to be made of unfeeling, unsleeping metal' bad day."

He paused for a second. "Okay, yeah, that fucking sucks." He stepped into her field of vision and took the pants from her hands. "Any way I can help?"

"Unless you can make me a new body, doubt it."

He examined her critically, studying her from top to bottom, as if he was actually thinking about it. "I mean," he finally said, his voice thoughtful. "I could maybe give you some tattoos."

She stared at him. "What?"

"I could engrave the metal; Granny does it all the time for costumers."

She knew; she could remember smooth, flowing lines along the side of an automail arm, a sun engraved in the palm of a metal hand, and she remembered the smiles of the costumers as they made their body their own once again. 

But, as far as she knew, Ed had never been the one to do it before.

"You sure that's a good idea?" she asked, but she was already eyeing the tool kit.

"I mean, how hard can it be?"

Normally, that might've made her pause, but really, what was the worst that could happen? It wasn't like her situation could get any worse, and a failed tattoo would be the least of her worries.

She straightened her spine and resolutely held out her wrist. "I'd like a bracelet of flowers."

Ed grinned widely, his eyes glowing in the lamp's electric light as he picked up a marker, twirling it in his fingers. "One flower bracelet coming up" he said, as he grabbed her wrist and began to draw.

She let her vision go dark as she heard the marker squeak across the metal, her arm occasionally jostling when Ed re-positioned it. She did not feel the pressure as Ed began to carve in her body, but that fact did not distress her. Instead, she simply leaned back, listening to the rhythmic, whirring sound of machinery. 

Finally, the whirring stopped, and Ed announced: "One flower bracelet, done!"

She opened her eyes - or, well, let the lights in her eyes come back on - and saw Ed grinning, hands gesturing proudly to her wrist, a smug line in his body language. She turned to look, and -

The bracelet was ugly. Ugly beyond belief. The flowers were crooked, the metal jagged unevenly, and the whole thing bore more resemblance to chicken scratches than it did to the flower crowns she'd made when she was younger. 

She buckled over, laughing as she hadn't since before the transmutation, the laughter echoing hollow, but she didn't care, only laughing louder. "It's so - so -" she heaved, catching her chest. "It's so ugly!"

"Oh come on, it's not _that_ bad." 

"Ed, it looks like someone took a knife to the flowers."

Ed huffed. "That's an artistic choice."

"Please remind me to warn Granny never to let you near a costumer's automail."

"You just don't know how to recognize art!"

"Maybe, but I absolutely know how to recognize flowers, and whatever this," she gestured to her wrist, finally calming down a bit, "it's not a flower."

Finally, Ed laughed too, and she started all up again, and they just sat there, laughing as they had done for years now, and for the first time, she felt like she might be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HMMM finally we're landing on some exploration of trans girl!Winry. Fun fact, this chapter was the reason I wanted to start this AU in the first place, even if the quality really doesn't live up to that honor, but I'm very glad I got it done!
> 
> Also, just want to note that Winry's trans experience is the most stereotypical one, just because I headcanon it like that. I do plan on eventually getting some other trans characters with some less stereotypical trans experiences just to balance things out a bit, but for now, just keep in mind that this is not representative of every trans person out there. Also, I should probably note that, while I'm trans, my experience is completely different from Winry (like, I don't even have the same gender as her - I'm nonbinary), so I'm mostly relying on the research I did when I was questioning.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaand we're off bitches!
> 
> Long author's note for the first chapter, just want to get a few things straight:
> 
> \- This is gonna be more of a series of semi-chronological one shots then a properly plotted story, partly because I'm lazy and don't wanna commit to that, partly because despite everything this AU actually sticks fairly close to canon (the manga canon anyway) and retelling scenes that are practically identical in the source material is boring as tar for everyone, so I figure taking out moments that'd be different in this AU is a much more fun way to write and read it. But it's not going to be incredibly tight or well-plotted, so adjust your expectations accordingly.
> 
> \- Fateful readers/watchers of FMA have probably noticed that the timeline presented in this fic is horseshit, but catch me in the club not giving a single fuck. FMA's pre-story timeline is very hard to keep track of for me, so for this story:  
> 1\. Everyone's parents die when Al's five and Winry/Ed are six  
> 2\. Winry's parents die six months after Ed/Al's.  
> 3\. Trisha visits every year in the first week of july; it was seven months until her next visit when Hohenheim died.  
> 4\. Al and Winry are ten and eleven respectively when they commit human transmutation.  
> 5\. Al'll be eleven when he becomes the Fullmetal Alchemist.  
> 6\. The Ishvalan War has been going on for at least a decade before Al/Winry/Ed were born, but the Massacre started right around the time when Winry was four, which is also when her parents left. It officially ended when Winry/Ed were seven.
> 
> \- Since this is my AU and I do what I want, I'm gonna change some aspects that don't necessarily correlate with the AU I'm writing just 'cause I want to. Examples include:  
> 1\. Making Izumi a bit less violent. She's still strict and should probably not be allowed to teach (don't throw kids on an island without survival training I'm begging you), but the overly violent stuff goes (if you're already dumping kids on an island by themselves why the FUCK do you need to hire a dude to beat them up).  
> 2\. Winry's a trans girl and I'll be working in other headcanons as well. This doesn't inherently contradict canon but I think we can all agree it's not what Arakawa had in mind when she wrote FMA.  
> 3\. I'm trying to get as much ableism out of this fucking story as humanly possible, but considering FMA's inherently ableist premise that'll mean some changes that'll become clear later on. Mostly when/if we reach the finale.
> 
> \- Trisha and Hohenheim's roles are also reversed, and I know Hoho never came to visit in canon, but I feel like Trisha is a lot less prone to running from her emotions and a lot more responsible/parental, so she'd forcibly remind herself to come back every year. Also Trisha has no real canon personality (except /maybe/ in 03, but even that's minimal) so you can't actually prove me wrong.
> 
> \- If you're wondering why Ed's perspective is shuffled to the side, it's because I'm planning to focus on him later.
> 
> \- I'll try my best to update this at least semi-regularly, but I'm known to write slow and leave things unfinished (hence why this is my first multichap), so it's possible this'll get abandoned. However, due to the the one-shotty nature of the chapters, that'll probably be fine. Probably.


End file.
